With the Creator at My Side

At dawn, if I am out, walking, talking to the creator in admiration,

The world seems so gettable. The same world pales down

As it brightens, withdraws; closes itself in, like a snake,

With the hour hand running forward and my spirit backward.

I cannot  explain this change. Perhaps sleep does the trick;

It washes away the wounds of day, and then towards day

The world begins to move. Sleep puts a curtain

On things that are certain. It enlivens the spirit making it soar again.

Communicating  with the creator becomes possible, the unreal

Appears real. It seems I have it all, everything I need,

Because then you are with me. With you at my side

I see that huge wave approach, the wave that we will ride.